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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592249">You in Full Bloom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromAtlantiswithLove/pseuds/FromAtlantiswithLove'>FromAtlantiswithLove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>D.Gray-man</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Green thumb Kanda, M/M, Modern AU, Plant killer Allen, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:41:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,562</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592249</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromAtlantiswithLove/pseuds/FromAtlantiswithLove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Allen can’t for the life of him keep a plant alive and resorts to stealing his neighbor's flowers to decorate Mana's grave. </p><p>Kanda finds out and takes it upon himself to teach the beansprout about gardening.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kanda Yuu/Allen Walker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is an attempt at writing prompt #2 by indiamw24 on tumblr!</p><p>You can find their page <a href="https://indiamw24.tumblr.com/">here</a>.</p><p>The prompt: <em>Allen keeps picking flowers from his neighbor's (Kanda) garden. He finds out and demands where the flowers are going and Allen takes him to Mana's grave. Kanda takes it upon himself to teach Allen how to grow flowers, just so he stops stealing his and nothing else.</em></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>1. Heather (<em>calluna vulgaris</em>) – Good luck</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Allen observed the last one of his leafy friends as it sagged sadly in its terra cotta pot and sighed dejectedly. He had followed to the letter the flower shop owner’s recommendations, when that didn’t work, he tried everything else he could think of: watering them daily, every other day, once a week. He had placed them in the direct sunlight, in the shade, had used (and abused) organic and chemical fertilizers.</p><p>It had all been for naught.</p><p>Allen Walker couldn’t for the life of him keep a plant alive.</p><p>Whatever he did, the vibrant green always turned into a sickly yellow before giving place to the murky brown shade of death.</p><p>How come plants could grow in between the cracks of the asphalt but couldn’t survive a few weeks in his flat? Was it doomed or something? He glared down at his mismatched hands. Perhaps <em>he </em>was the doomed one.</p><p>He took the pitiful remains of what had been a beautiful purple dahlia and emptied them in the bin, they made a dull thud as they hit the bottom of the container.</p><p>Allen leaned against the sole window adorning his small living room and looked down at the little garden downstairs. It really wasn’t much of a garden, rather a small square of bright grass somehow thriving in the middle of grey and dirty concrete. There was a dozen of different flower species, standing tall and lush, rainbow-colored petals, healthy looking. Nothing short of a miracle if you asked him.</p><p>His knowledge of flora was very limited; he recognized a rose bush and some tulips, but that was about it.</p><p>Allen was pretty sure the old lady to whom the terrain belonged to wouldn’t mind – or even notice for that matter – if he were to pick some, since she wasn’t the one doing the <em>actual</em> gardening.</p><p>In fact, all of it was his moody and exceptionally rude neighbor’s doing. The tall one with long ass hair and the really pretty face. He tended to the plants early in the morning or late in the evening, cutting, watering and basically doing a bunch of gardening stuff.</p><p>Looked damn hot as he did too.</p><p>It was a shame that such a nice envelope should come with such a terrible personality.</p><p>They had been each other’s neighbor for close to six months now, and not once had he returned Allen’s greetings – and <em>no</em>, glaring at him and walking past him as if his existence was the most annoying occurrence ever, did not count as a ‘hello’.</p><p>An idea started to form in Allen’s mind as he contemplated his neighbor’s colorful work, and a dangerous glint suddenly shone in his gray eyes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>2. Lavender (<em>lavendula</em>) – Distrust</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It was common knowledge that Yuu Kanda had a shit ton of shortcomings.</p><p>He made it a point to be rude to ab-so-lu-te-ly everyone like it was his life mission.</p><p>He also lacked empathy big time, probably to the point where it borderlined on sociopathic.</p><p>In other, clearer, terms, Yuu Kanda didn’t give a damn about other people’s feelings and, well, lives. He was perfectly fine ignoring and being avoided by mostly everyone.</p><p>His life philosophy was something along the lines of: people are full of shit and I don’t have the fucking time to handle it. Kanda might’ve been on the dense side, but he had some real unusually sharp senses where shadiness was concerned, which helped a lot when, like him, you had less than zero patience. It saved him a lot of energy and trouble, selecting which people to get involved with. As you may have guessed, that list was remarkably short.</p><p>He had another, though, for those who irritated him, that was so extensive it could’ve just said ‘the entirety of humankind’.</p><p>The dude from next door – who always tried to make god forsaken chit-chat when they came across one another – had a choice position in the second one.</p><p>Even his appearance got on Kanda’s nerves: what was it with the old man hair and the stupid tattoo and the even stupider habit of wearing gloves all the freaking time? Was it a fashion statement or something? In any case it was bloody ridiculous. The temperatures had been stagnating around <em>95°F</em>. Kanda had an excruciatingly hard time wearing <em>anything</em> at all.</p><p>Every time he spotted the gloves, they made him itch with uneasiness.</p><p>All in all, he really shouldn’t have been surprised to find out that on top of his questionable appearance, his neighbor was also a thief (yes, Kanda was a judgmental bitch).</p><p>He was walking back from the grocery store, non-recyclable plastic bags filled with the instant soba noodles his diet was mainly composed of in hand, when he came across a scene that made him pause. Frowning and squinting, his jaw went slack with stupefaction when realization dawned upon him.</p><p>The phony white-haired guy was climbing over the fence of the garden old lady Roz let him use for his therapeutic gardening, glancing from side to side all stealthily, holding a bouquet made of the flowers Kanda had grown.</p><p>His usually quick mouth was shocked into silence for a couple of seconds, but once his neighbor’s silhouette had disappeared inside the building, he let out a very articulate and angry exclamation.</p><p>“<em>What the hell</em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>3. Foxglove (<em>digitalis purpurea</em>) – Insincerity</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>There were three reasons Kanda rarely checked his mail.</p><ol>
<li>Despite the ‘NO ADS’ sticker, stupid shiny flyers kept piling up inside his mailbox. It was a pain in the ass, but whatever.</li>
<li>Now <em>bills</em>, those made him <em>extra</em> anxious. An anxious Kanda was an angry Kanda, and an angry Kanda was a synonym of pain for anyone that happened to be in his surroundings. That included himself.</li>
<li>Last, and certainly not least; if it wasn’t one of the afore mentioned options, it’s because it was something his ex-foster father had sent, and that had to be the absolute worse.</li>
</ol><p>Today was a third option kind of day.</p><p>The picture on the postcard showed a view of the Sacré-Coeur basilica in Montmartre – Kanda remembered it from the year he had spent travelling all around Europe with Tiedoll – and despite knowing better, he turned the offending object around and eyed the few sentences scribbled on the back distastefully.</p><p>
  <em>To my dearest Yuu, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Being in Paris has made so many memories resurface. How I miss the time you and your brothers travelled with me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>PS: the streets reek of urine, it’s especially bad in summertime. </em>
</p><p>Every single word on that piece of paper pissed Kanda off.</p><p>The old man was a complete lunatic; going around calling him ‘Yuu my boy’ and playing the perfect family. Tiedoll lived in his own fantasy world, trying to make sense of his actions was a like fighting a losing battle.</p><p>He scowled at the postcard and was so focused on crunching it up into annihilation that he didn’t notice the person opening the mailbox next to his.</p><p>“Bad news…Kanda?”</p><p>It was his next-door neighbor. The thief. Sporting an amused smile of all things. Kanda’s hand tightened into a fist.</p><p>“How the fuck do you my name?”</p><p>Stupidly big gray eyes blinked.</p><p>“It’s…written on your mailbox.”</p><p>Grand. Kanda had made a fool of himself. Shit. Fuck. <em>Damn</em>. He glared passionately at said item and shut it forcefully.</p><p>The guy made a really poor attempt at hiding his smirk behind gloved fingers and sweet lord how Kanda wanted to punch that face.</p><p>“In some countries your arms would’ve been cut off by now.”</p><p>The satisfied grin froze into a vexed grimace.</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“It’s the chastisement for theft.”</p><p>There was a pause during which the shorter male – Kanda didn’t know his name; he was at a disadvantage here – seemed genuinely confused.</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>,” he finally realized. “You’re talking about the flowers."</p><p>For some reason, the fact that he didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t aware of what this was all about, irritated Kanda even more.</p><p>“Not even going to deny it, are you?” He growled.</p><p>“Why should I?”</p><p>“Why? Are you fucking serious right now?”</p><p>“Well, they’re not yours. I don’t see why I should explain myself to the likes of you.”</p><p>“The fuck they’re not,” Kanda pointed at his own chest. “<em>I’m</em> doing the gardening. Therefore, they <em>are </em>mine.”</p><p>The guy had the balls to sigh.</p><p>“You’re awfully sensitive about plants.”</p><p>“I’m sensitive about midgets stealing my stuff.”</p><p>“H-hey! No need to get offensive!”</p><p> “Just stating facts.”</p><p>The little shit huffed in exasperation.</p><p>“You’re an ass.”</p><p>“Better than being a kleptomaniac.”</p><p>Now the brat threw his hands in the air.</p><p>“You do remember we’re talking about<em> flowers</em>?” He asked in a very obnoxious upstart tone, like Kanda was exaggerating. He wasn’t. This was about boundaries. Yes, <em>boundaries</em>. Boundaries were extremely important.</p><p>“Yes. <em>My </em>plants.”</p><p>“Christ!” The look of mixed disbelief and frustration on the white-haired male’s face was admittedly a bit satisfying. “What is it with you? It’s not even that big of a deal!”</p><p>“If it isn’t, why don’t you grow your own?”</p><p>“…I tried. Apparently I'm not as good a gardener as you are.”</p><p>It was Kanda’s turn to smirk.</p><p>“Figures.”</p><p>The guy eyed him skeptically.</p><p>“Do you take pride in being a douchebag?”</p><p>“Hell yeah.”</p><p>“You’re impossible.”</p><p>“Whatever. What d’you do with ‘em?”</p><p>Pale eyebrows frowned.</p><p>“What do you mean <em>do</em>?”</p><p>“You tell me.”</p><p>“I,” he started, looking away, and then his eyes widened. “…Will you let me continue picking some if I show you?”</p><p>Kanda crossed his arms and sighed, unimpressed by the turn this conversation was taking.</p><p>“Think you can convince me?”</p><p>The brat’s smile was all teeth.</p><p>“<em>Positive.</em>”</p><p>“Do you best then, shorty.”</p><p>The smile cracked.</p><p>“It’s Allen Walker, actually,” he said, extending a gloved hand between their bodies.</p><p>Kanda eyed the covered appendage suspiciously.</p><p>“…I’ll go with shorty.”</p><p>He side-stepped the slack jawed male and headed for the stairs, his right foot on the first step when the other – Allen Walker – called.</p><p>“It’s only the hands.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The punishment for theft. They would’ve cut off my hands, not my entire arms.”</p><p>“…Freak.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>4. Poppy (<em>papaver rhoeas</em>) – The remembrance of someone’s death</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The beansprout – Kanda came up with the nickname right after their first encounter – knocked on his door the next day, a late Tuesday afternoon, cradling a bouquet in his arms.</p><p>“Hello Kanda.”</p><p>“What the fuck do you want?”</p><p>“Oh, is this a bad time?”</p><p>“It’s always a bad time.”</p><p>“Yeah, I was under that impression too,” shorty answered distractedly. He was standing on his toes, trying to peer over Kanda’s shoulder into his apartment. Curious little shit.</p><p>“Can I come in?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Am I supposed to wait for you here, then? You’re obviously not ready.” He said, eyeing Kanda’s outfit, gaze stopping somewhere between his knees and crotch. “Are those yoga pants?”</p><p>“Ready for what?”</p><p>“To go.”</p><p>The guy was doing it on purpose. He was messing with him.</p><p>“Why would I go anywhere with an annoying beansprout?”</p><p>“I told you already, the name’s Allen!”</p><p><em>He sure is sensitive about his name</em>, Kanda mused, a smug smile blossoming on his lips.</p><p>“Anyway,” the other continued, a pink hue dusting over his cheeks. “Didn’t you say you wanted to know what I needed the flowers for?”</p><p>“Never said anything about wanting to know. You said you’d convince me. I’m still waiting.”</p><p>“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Just get ready and come with me.”</p><p>“…Are you seriously ordering me?”</p><p>“What? No, that was merely a suggestion.” He cleared his throat. “Let me try again. Please, Kanda, would you get ready and come with me?”</p><p>A wave of exasperation washed over the long-haired male; he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.</p><p>“Everything you say is annoying. Just shut up.”</p><p>“But are you coming or not?”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>! Stop nagging me!”</p><p>The beansprout mimed zipping his mouth shut, but his smile was nothing short of blinding.</p><hr/><p>That’s how Kanda found himself riding the bus with the smart-ass half an hour later, to wherever the he had decided to take him. Although he initially refused to, he ended up seating next to the shorter male, crossing his arms in front of his chest and making it a point to glare at basically everyone and everything. </p><p>They fell into a weird mood, silence and grogginess surrounding them. Kanda had imagined Walker would try and make small talk, like he usually tried to, but surprisingly enough, it wasn’t the case. He remained oddly quiet for the entirety of the ride, gray eyes staring out the window as he held the flowers he had yet again taken without Kanda’s authorization. The yellow, pink and red velvety petals of the snapdragons he cradled carefully in his lap brushing softly.</p><p>Kanda wasn’t bothered with the uncharacteristic quietness and newfound melancholy, quite on the contrary. It was way better than the guy’s usual chatterbox act and he found himself relaxing in the presence of his phony neighbor, eyelids becoming heavy with sleep.</p><p>He must’ve dozed off – which was an extremely rare occurrence – for when Walker spoke his head was lolling dangerously close to the kid’s shoulder.  </p><p>“We’ll get out at the next stop,” he said, not looking at him.</p><p>Kanda straightened himself and just grunted back.</p><p>The both of them walked for a few minutes, Kanda behind Allen – which he deeply disliked but since he didn’t know the way there was no helping it – until they came upon a tall entrance gate and the kid stopped.</p><p>It was made of dark wrought iron, the metal curved into the intricate shape of a tree. Kanda’s steps slowed ever so slightly.</p><p>“This place is…”</p><p>“A cemetery.”</p><p>The bean’s expression was impermeable, he closed his gloved hand over the portal’s handle, it screeched as he pushed it open.</p><p>Kanda couldn’t help but notice how there were no signs of hesitance in the guy’s demeanor. He was familiar with the place. He stepped inside and immediately started walking down the pebbled aisle. Kanda followed silently.</p><p>The cemetery was old. Tombstones of all shapes and sizes lining on each side of the way, rising ominously from the ground. Some were half covered in moss, lettering hardly readable, obviously having been forgotten about. Others, on the contrary, were evidently well and regularly taken care of.</p><p>Although majority of the grass and weeds had burnt from their exposure to the restless sun, bright red poppies still had found the strength to spring out among the dry yellow tufts, vivacious and stubborn like memories who kept creeping up on you and refused to fade away.</p><p>“What’s up with the silence? Don’t tell me cemeteries creep you out,” the sprout suddenly teased.</p><p>“Back to your annoying self, I see.” <em>He </em>was the chatterbox here. If anyone’s silence was unusual it was <em>his</em>. “I wouldn’t know, though. It’s my first-time setting foot in one.”</p><p>“Lucky you,” Kanda thought he heard. He stared at the back of the bean’s head.</p><p>“Where’s the grave?”</p><p>”In the back.”</p><p>“Let’s get on with it, then.”</p><p>“Such a patient man.”</p><p>The longer they walked, the greener the grass became. The far end of the cemetery was nothing like the sunny entrance. The stones sat in the shadow of a great oak tree, branches stretching out above their heads like monstrous digits, thick foliage engulfing the clear blue sky voraciously.</p><p>“Here it is,” the beansprout finally announced, crouching before a lonely and mostly bare tombstone; no dates, no photographs and very few words engraved on it.</p><p>
  <em>In memory of</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mana Walker</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I will miss you always</em>
</p><p>His gloved fingers traced the letters tenderly.</p><p>“Hi, Mana,” the boy greeted. It was nothing but a whisper. Words Kanda had no business hearing. “I’ve brought company today,” he continued, louder. “I hope you don’t mind.”</p><p>He cast a sideway glance at Kanda and must’ve noticed his unease because a cocky grin formed on his lips.</p><p>“His name is Kanda. He’s a right twat but he’s also the one growing the flowers I’ve been bringing you, so it’s only right I let him tag along, right?”</p><p>“You made me.”</p><p>An eyebrow raised, unimpressed, behind uncommonly pale hair.</p><p>“You got on that bus of your own accord; I didn’t force you into anything.”</p><p>“Because you wouldn’t stop <em>pestering</em> me.”</p><p>“The end justifies the means?” The guy threw back with a shrug.</p><p>“Whatever. You’re annoying.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard you say that about a hundred times. Now, say hello.”</p><p>“…What?”</p><p>Gray eyes travelled wordlessly between Kanda’s face and the grave.</p><p>“Like. Hell.”</p><p>“Show us how you are actually capable of being polite.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>It seemed the little shit was set on stomping over the remains of Kanda’s long-lost patience; he tapped the top of the tombstone with a shit-eating grin.</p><p>“Come on, he’s waiting.”</p><p>“What the hell?!” Kanda finally snapped. “It’s a fucking <em>grave</em>, not a person!”</p><p>“Well, of course it is. We’re in a cemetery, Kanda.”</p><p>“Don’t you dare make it sound like I’m the mental one, here.”</p><p>“Mental <em>and </em>rude. That’s a tough combo, isn’t it?” The brat turned and asked the stone.</p><p>“For Christ’s sake.” Kanda could feel a headache forming behind his eyeballs and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he glared at the boy and then at the grave. “Hello.”</p><p>Walker stared at him incredulously before doubling over, body shaking with his loud and uncontrollable cackling.</p><p>The git had tricked him.</p><p>“Screw you,” Kanda seethed, but it only served to make the dumbass laugh harder.</p><p>For all his grunting and overall petulance Kanda still helped out with the cleaning of the grave. He got the provided buckets and filled them with tap water as Walker instructed, brought it back and forth, put it back in place, diligently.</p><p>“I was abandoned as an infant,” the boy blurted suddenly on the ride back home, fidgeting absent-mindedly with the hem of his gloves. “Mana took me in, gave me a name. He was the only family I ever had.” The words rolled out of his mouth, unexpected and unstoppable, hung in the air for the shortest time before gray eyes widened comically, like he hadn’t been aware he was speaking aloud. A faint blush reddened the apples of his cheeks.</p><p>“I – sorry. You didn’t ask anything and here I am…blabbering.”</p><p>Kanda shrugged.</p><p>“Families aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”</p><p>Allen glanced at him curiously, the questions he undoubtedly had he kept to himself and just smiled, a fond stretch of the lips that made his eyes glint happily.</p><p>Their knees kept bumping and brushing for the rest of the ride, but neither of them bothered pointing it out.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>5. Amaryllis (<em>amaryllis belladonna</em>) – Pride</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Kanda’s knuckles collided three times against Allen Walker’s apartment door the very same day at ten past eleven PM.</p><p>A muffled voice cursed right before the beansprout’s half naked form appeared.</p><p>“Kanda? What are you doing here?”</p><p>He sounded genuinely surprised, his tone holding none of the teasing it had during the afternoon.</p><p>The words Kanda had prepared died on his tongue, because Walker’s hair was wet and out of his face, allowing for a clear view of the red tattoo – or was it a scar? It looked uneven from up-close, the way tissue did when it had to pull itself back together after a wound – and his naked torso was spangled with water droplets, but what really caught the long-haired male’s attention was the guy’s left arm. It was dark, not dark skinned, but of dark red color, almost black, from the shoulder down to the tip of his fingers, holding a plush towel around his slim hips.</p><p>Kanda’s gaze lingered there for a second too long before it settled back up on the much safer pale face.</p><p>“If you want flowers you should grow them yourself. Or buy them,” he declared.</p><p>“Ah,” the onomatopoeia conveyed the brat’s disappointment evidently enough, but he was quick to school his tone and expression into neutral, polite ones. “Okay, I get it. I won’t pick your flowers anymore.”</p><p>Kanda scowled, suddenly irrationally irritated.</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“The hell?” The sprout’s voice cracked; it reached his eyes too. “I just told you I wasn’t going to touch your precious flowers anymore. Stop being an ass!”</p><p>“Idiot. I told you to stop making up shit already. I didn’t say anything about that.”</p><p>“You <em>did</em>. You just told me-”</p><p>“That you should grow your own.”</p><p>“My point exactly!”</p><p>“I’ll teach you. About gardening.”</p><p>The guy’s face went blank.</p><p>“That’s…,” pale eyes blinked. “Thank you,” he said simply, softly, staring at the taller male’s face with bewilderment.</p><p>Kanda nodded stiffly.</p><p>“Saturday morning. Be ready at eight sharp.”</p><p>“I will!”</p><p>The beansprout sounded far too enthusiastic; it was embarrassing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>6. Daisy (<em>bellis perennis</em>) – Hope</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Vibrant pink blossoms caught Allen’s attention.</p><p>“That one looks nice,” he said, pulling the shopping cart to a halt.</p><p>Kanda came up behind him. “Azalea, huh? Forget it. It’s a pain to take care of.” </p><p>“What about this one?” Allen asked again not a minute later, leaning over a fragrant gardenia. “It smells heavenly!”</p><p>“Too temperamental.”</p><p>Allen rolled his eyes.</p><p>“That’s an adjective I would associate with <em>you</em>.”</p><p>“Shut it.”</p><p>The garden center Kanda had taken him to was overflowing with innumerable plants and flowers. Tiny young ones next to fully grown others. Blue, purple, red, pink, yellow, orange and white petals bumping against each other in a surprisingly harmonious mess.</p><p>Allen hadn’t caught a glimpse of his moody neighbor until that very morning. He also had been way more excited by the prospect of gardening with Kanda than he cared to admit, and by half past seven he had been waiting for the other male already, freshly showered and dressed in his Sunday leisure outfit.</p><p>“Now, even you should be capable of handling <em>that</em>.” Kanda said with a smirk, pointing to a row of baby succulents.</p><p>Allen eyed the little cactuses disdainfully.</p><p>“Killed several of those already.”</p><p>Kanda’s smirk dropped.</p><p>“I told you there must be something wrong with my apartment! It’s probably too humid or too dark, I don’t know.”</p><p>“There’s something wrong with you, period.”</p><p>To which Allen mumbled something along the lines of ‘at least I don’t’ have girly hair’.</p><p>“What the fuck?” Kanda spat, glaring down at the sassy brat. “Want me to get started on your old man hair, sprout?”</p><p>“Come at me, princess Kanda,” Allen challenged with a raised eyebrow. </p><p>“<em>You little shit</em>.”</p><p>The words rumbled out of Kanda’s throat as his fingers closed around the first object they found.</p><p>Less than half a second later and Allen’s snobbish grin turned into a scandalized shriek.</p><p>“Kanda! You can’t use <em>merchandise</em> as projectiles!” He looked down at the broken ceramics, appalled. “I am so not paying for that.”</p><p>"You wouldn't have to if you just knew to keep that big mouth of yours shut."</p><p>“You’re crazy.”</p><p>“And you’re annoying as hell.”</p><p>“Guess we make quite the pair, then.”</p><p>Kanda’s scowl intensified when Allen started pushing remnants of pottery, dirt and leaves alike, under the furniture with his foot.</p><p>“Just <em>what</em> are you doing?”</p><p>“Covering up your misdeed.”</p><p>Kanda stared at him, took a look around them.</p><p>“…You missed a piece.”</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>“Behind you.”</p><p>“Cheers.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Later that day, after showering and once he had curled up in his old living-room armchair, Allen reached for the thick book sitting on the coffee table and searched 'Lotus' in the summary. </p><p>Fast-forward to page 127. </p><p>Symbolizes rebirth.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was supposed to be a short, light and easy prompt fic. I did not expect it to turn into this three-chapter AU, but I've enjoyed writing it so damn much. </p><p>I've got a feeling this second part is a tad darker than the first...not entirely sure how that happened, though.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>7. Larkspur (<em>delphinium nuttalianum</em>) - Openheartedness</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>To Allen's great - and somewhat condescending - surprise, Kanda proved to be a much better teacher than he had imagined. Sure, he suffered from an almost clinical lack of patience and spent a good two thirds of the time glaring at  Allen or downright insulting him, but he was also focused, like, <em>really </em>focused, as though he were alone, as though his phony neighbor wasn't next to him. It was admittedly a fascinating sight. He also answered every question Allen asked as precisely as he could, in between sighs of course. </p><p>Back at the garden center, he had advised Allen on getting peace lilies. The younger male hadn't been too impressed by the simple plant; big shiny leaves and conical white-green blossoms, but Kanda had insisted, explaining that it was ideal for beginners. Peace lilies required little luminosity and care, they were a robust kind and once the flowers appeared, they lasted for weeks. </p><p>"I've been wondering..."</p><p>Kanda sighed almost as soon as Allen opened his mouth. The pale-haired male felt the flame of irritation flutter to life. </p><p>"What are you sighing for?"</p><p>"You're giving me a headache."</p><p>"Excuse me?" Eyebrows up to his hairline, he would've almost been embarrassed at how much his accent was showing if he hadn't been to busy staring incredulously at Kanda's profile. "I've barely even talked!"</p><p>"You call that barely?"</p><p>"Well, a dozen words aren't exactly my definition of a conversation."</p><p>Kanda made a face. </p><p>"<em>What</em>?" Allen asked. </p><p>"Whatever you're trying to do, just stop it. It's disgusting."</p><p>"You mean talking in general or getting to know each other?"</p><p>"Oh God." </p><p>There was something about the long-haired male that made Allen itch to annoy him. He usually prided himself in being a perfect gentleman. Always hiding behind his politeness, using it to keep people at arms-length, but there was just no being polite with Kanda. </p><p>"You know that antisocial behavior and lack of empathy are the main characteristics of sociopathy? You should look it up."</p><p>"You'll be looking up for a dentist in no time if you don't shut your piehole soon."</p><p>Allen raised an insolent eyebrow. </p><p>"You'll have to try harder than that if you plan on intimidating me."</p><p>He could almost hear the grinding of Kanda's teeth. </p><p>"You're insufferable." The dark-haired male finally let out from in between his tight lipped scowl, hammering his dibbled menacingly in the ground.</p><p>"And you're allergic to social interaction."</p><p>"So you <em>do</em> get it." </p><p>"Jerk."</p><p>"Stupid beansprout."</p><p>Sure, Allen was gifted when it came to push Kanda's buttons, but that nickname, <em>that godforsaken nickname</em>, had the power to ruffle him like nothing else. </p><p>"Will you stop with that? It's ridiculous."</p><p>"That's why it suits you," Kanda retorted, lips stretching meanly, canines showing. If Allen felt the urge to violently kiss that stupid smirk away he did a wonderful job of keeping it under control. </p><p>"Your personality is the absolute worst."</p><p>"So?"</p><p>"The stuff you touch should rot right on the spot with how bad it is."</p><p>"At least I have one."</p><p>Allen frowned, taken aback. </p><p>"What, because I don't?"</p><p>"Doesn't count if it's fake."</p><p>Kanda's rudeness was nothing new. This time however, his words hit close to a place Allen didn't want to look at and for the first time in a very long time, maybe since ever, he found himself at a loss for words. </p><hr/><p>"Don't tell me you're sulking."</p><p>Allen has been digging, planting, patting and watering whatever plant pointed at or handed him in complete silence for what feels like an eternity. </p><p>"Thought you wanted me to shut up."</p><p>"You <em>are </em>sulking."</p><p>"I'm not."</p><p>"You totally are," Kanda snorted loudly. </p><p>"I am <em>not</em> sulking." </p><p>Dark eyes stare at Allen for a little while, amused and a pinch of something else. </p><p>"Whatever, I don't care."</p><p>Allen chanced a look at the man. </p><p>He was a sight, all right. The dark and strong line of his eyebrows forever knitted into a frown, the straight nose and the pale pink of his lips above the stubborn curve of his chin. The jawline...oh, that had to be his best feature. Almost femalely slender yet distinctively male in its sharpness. </p><p>Allen looked down at his dirt covered gloves. He was thankful for the jerk's help, but he also wondered why the guy went out of his way to teach him this stuff when he so clearly despised him. </p><p>He had to admit he might've been slightly arrogant where Kanda was concerned; he thought he had him all figured out: an antisocial prick with anger management issues and, yeah, that was true, but there was more to that pretty face and acid tongue, wasn't there? He moved around with an assurance Allen could only envy, as if doubt wasn't even an option, and yet, he was so fucking distant - creating this empty space around him with his barking and glaring, much like Allen did himself, just using the opposite tactic - out of reach, like he was only partially there; body bound to the present while his mind remained stuck elsewhere. </p><p>So, when he said he didn't care, Allen believed him. </p><p>"How come you know so much about plants, anyway?" He ended up asking, not so comfortable with where his mind was going. </p><p>Kanda seemed reluctant to answer. </p><p>"I'm majoring in botany."</p><p>Allen didn't mean to, really, he didn't - who was he to mock someone else's degree? At least Kanda was <em>studying</em> - but he couldn't contain the scoff that tickeld its way out of his mouth. That earned him a death glare. </p><p>"Wanna tell the class what's so funny?" Kanda challenged, nowhere near amused. </p><p>"Well, <em>you</em>," Allen answered a bit too honestly. "Do you plan on opening a flower shop or something?"</p><p>"What of it?"</p><p>"Nothing," Allen shrugged, amusement still tingling his lips. "I just have serious doubts regarding your selling skills."</p><p>"Why don't you keep those to yourself, huh?"</p><p>"Can't handle a bit of constructive criticism?"</p><p>"What part of it is constructive?"</p><p>"Well, I might be useless when it comes to gardening, but I happen to know a thing or two about the art of sales."</p><p>"Yeah? What do <em>you </em>do anyway?" Kanda help up a hand. "No, actually, don't answer that. I don't wanna know."</p><p>"I work in a coffee shop," Allen started, gleefully ignoring the second half of Kanda's retort. "It's pretty popular too, maybe your hermit ass has heard of it," the dark-haired male scowled at this part, "it's called the Black Ordder."</p><p>The blank look on Kanda's face screamed 'doesn't ring a bell. Don't give a flying fuck.'</p><p>"You should come by someday."</p><p>"I don't like coffee."</p><p>Allen blinked. Was it actually possible Kanda wasn't familiar with the concept of coffee shops? </p><p>"We do serve other stuff besides coffee," he clarified hesitantly. </p><p>"Hm."</p><p>"It'll be on the house. Take it as a token of my appreciation for helping me out with, well, all this."</p><p>"Wanna know what I'd really appreciate?"</p><p>"I'm all ears."</p><p>"Some damn peace and quiet."</p><p>The blissful silence that followed was put to an end rather quickly. </p><p>"Sorry. That's definitely not up my street. Anything else?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>8. White clover (<em>trifolium repens</em>) - Think of me</strong>
</p><p>It became a thing. A thing Allen looked forward to as soon as it was over. </p><p>Week after week, every Saturday morning, Allen would meet Kanda down in the tiny garden and for a couple of hours they'd cut, dig, plant and water under the early sun, their worn-out denim clad knees sinking in the soft dirt. On several occasions they spent the entire morning there, usually throwing verbal jabs at one another, other times it'd be actual - and far more dangerous - gardening tools. </p><p>Where May's early morning had been nothing but pleasant, late June wasn't as forgiving and the sun, despite Allen basically being covered from head to toe, found a way to burn the skin of his neck to a red and every uncomfortable peeling mess. Of course, Kanda made it a point to mock him and his delicate white boy skin, it was thankfully short-lived, seeing as by the end of their next gardening session, the long-haired male's shoulders were sporting an equally impressive sunburn. </p><p>"Forgot your sunscreen, <em>jerkanda</em>?"</p><p>Yes, Allen had come up with his own nickname for his evil-tempered nieghbor. He was pretty pleased with himself. </p><p>"Why are you so irritating? Don't you have an off button?" Kanda grunted, taking off his gardening gloves and wiping his forearm across his sweat covered forehead. </p><p>"What about you?" Allen shot righ back, eyes following his neighbor's movements hungrily. "Don't you ever get tired of being a dick?"</p><p>"Nope."</p><p>More than futile, it would've been <em>sad </em>of Allen to pretend he didn't enjoy their banter more than he did the actual gardening. Under Kanda's guidance he had managed to keep the peace lilies alive, better yet, they were thriving. The glossy dark leaves growing at an astounding speed. It had encouraged him to purchase a monstera a few days ago, and he had to admit it was a happy addition to his otherwise gloomy apartment. </p><p>Another thing he had gotten his hands onto, upon stumbling inside the local library for the first time - the chatty red head working par time there had been surprisingly helpful - was a book on flowers. More precisely, on flower symbolism. It wasn't what he had originally been searching for, but once it had caught his attention his curiosity got the better of his wallet. It had been ridiculously pricy. The hard cover was a rich opaque black, the thick pages felt velvety under his fingertips. The richly colored illustrations were cray detailed, Allen had already spent an embarrassing amount of time examining them, getting lost in the lines and profusion of pigments. This specific finding he didn't share with Kanda. He knew for certain the long-haired male would've ridiculed his reading choice and for a reason he couldn't quite yet pinpoint, the thought of being mocked about this made him peculiarly uneasy. </p><p>It had been sitting on the coffee table since he had bought it. After a relaxing evening shower, Allen would curl up in his armchair and reach for it. </p><p>The first flower he had looked up was the peace lily. He found it symbolized prosperity and tranquility. </p><p>He realized they were finished for the day, but Allen didn't want to go back to his apartment just yet. </p><p>He noticed the way Kanda glanced at his gloved hands. </p><p>"What's your favorite flower?" Allen asked out of the blue, smiling widely. It worked; Kanda looked up from his hands to his face and irritation instantly pulled his eyebrows together. </p><p>"What's up with the gloves?"</p><p>Okay, maybe it didn't. </p><p>"That's a very personal question."</p><p>"It’s because of your arm, isn’t it?"</p><p>Allen's mind went blank. </p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I saw it. That time I came by your apartment."</p><p>The pale-haired male opened and closed his mouth again and again. Words seemed to be failing him a whole damn lot when he was around Kanda. </p><p>"It's always been like that," he stammered quickly. "I know it's freaky."</p><p>"That why you're always wearing gloves and long-sleeves, then?"</p><p>"...Yeah."</p><p>Allen felt cruelly vulnerable under Kanda's dark gaze. </p><p>The older male quietly pondered over something for a minute. </p><p>"Lotuses I’d say."</p><p>There was a pause, during which Allen wondered where that came from before remembering he had asked. </p><p>"Oh," was he disappointed? Not really, it was just that, "I've never seen any."</p><p>"'Course you haven't. They don't grown around here," Kanda glanced up at the sky, eyes narrowing because of the harsh sunlight. "They're pretty common where I grew up, though."</p><p>A bunch of question bumped against Allen's teeth. <em>Where's that? Where do you come from? Why did you leave?</em> And a whole lot more, some his mind hadn't put into words yet.  </p><p>"Why do you like them?" He ended up asking. </p><p>Kanda frowned, like this was a loss of time. To Allen this felt like a very precious moment. </p><p>"Because. I don't know."</p><p>Later that day, after showering and once he had curled up in his old living-room armchair, Allen reached for the thick book sitting on the coffee table and searched 'Lotus' in the summary. </p><p>Fast-forward to page 127. </p><p>Symbolizes rebirth. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>9. Peony (<em>paeonia suffruticosa</em>) - Shame</strong>
</p><p>Allen hadn't heard of Cross Marian for approximatively a year. Approximatively a year without having to nurse the middle-aged man through his hangovers from hell - and the vomiting and flirting and swearing and general disproportionate amount of trouble it implied - without having to work extra-shifts to cover said ass' ridiculous drinking and gambling habits, without daily belittling and other traumatizing events he knew he would have to repress if he ever hoped to become a balanced and not too fuckep up person in a distant but not too distant future. </p><p>Anyhow, the approximative year had been a bubble of bliss. </p><p>That bubble burst when an unknown number appeared on the screen of his phone. Even the ringing had a foreboding edge to it. He hesitated before answering, and looking back, he really shouldn't have. </p><p>"Hello?"</p><p>"<em>Mister Walker?</em>"</p><p>"Yes. Who is this?"</p><p>"<em>Hum, sorry to bother you this late</em>," it was almost two in the morning, damn Allen and his insomnia for not letting him sleep through this promise of a disaster. "<em>I'm the bartender of Noah's Ark, we're closing up, but I've got a passed-out man here that refuses to leave. He handed me his phone and told me to call you so...could you possibly come get him? I'd rather not call the cops</em>."</p><p>Allen closed his eyes, wishing this conversation away, when he opened them again, phone still pressed to his ear, he sighed dejectedly. </p><p>You knew social services were a royal joke when they handed kids to people who actually needed to be taken care of. </p><p>"Yes, I'll be right over. Could you give me the address?"</p><p>Allen scribbled it down on a piece of paper and hung up. He put on a comfortable tracksuit he didn't care much about - knowing it was very likely to be puked on in the following hours - and a light denim jacket. He walked before Kanda's door on his way out, steps slowing as the urge to knock on that door, ask his neighbor for a ride, for company, materialized a throbbing lump in his chest. </p><p><em>God, get over yourself</em>, he thought unkindly and ran down the stairs and out in the street. </p><p>He hailed at least four cabs before he managed to get inside one. He handed the gray-haired driver the paper on which he had written the address and settled in the leather backseat. They drove for about twenty minutes, Allen realizing with growing terror that they were in the posh side of town. </p><p>"Could you wait here?" He asked the cabbie. "I won't be long."</p><p>"Five dollars," the man demanded. "If you're not back in ten I'm leaving."</p><p>Allen gritted his teeth, gave the man a folded bill and hurried inside Noah's Ark. </p><p>A tall, curly-haired and overall kind of over-the-top man welcomed him. </p><p>"Allen Walker?"</p><p>"That's me. Where is he?"</p><p>The guy motionned towards the counter. There was no mistaking the long red haired figure slumped over the bar. </p><p>Allen took in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. </p><p>"Master," Cross had insisted on Allen calling him that, it had stuck through the years. "I've come to get you. Come on, we have to leave."</p><p>Cross straightened abruptly, the stool he was sitting on pivotting threateningly. </p><p>"Took you long enough," the man grunted. His breath reeked of whisky. Allen made a face and wrapped one of Cross' arms around his shoulders. </p><p>"You need help with that?" The bartender asked. </p><p>"We'll be fine. Thank you."</p><p>"Actually, you can't go just yet."</p><p>Allen didn't roll his eyes. But he sure wanted to. </p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>"He didn't pay for his drinks."</p><p>The amount of self-control Allen had to conjure to <em>not</em> drop his asshole of a guardian and let the bartender call the police better get him a straight pass to heaven. </p><p>"How much?" He asked, already fishing for whatever money he had left in his pockets. Hoping this part of town wasn't actually as posh as it had appeared. </p><p>"589 dollars."</p><p>Allen's stomach dropped to his knees. </p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>"589-"</p><p>"No. Wait. I mean. How-how is that even <em>possible</em>?"</p><p>"He insisted on paying rounds."</p><p>Allen's grip on Cross' arm tightened. </p><p>"Watch it, kid," the man slurred, "you're pulling on my arm hair."</p><p>"Shut up," Allen hissed. He turned his attention back to the bartender. He should've been immunte to the feeling by now, but shame burned like acid in his stomach. "I-I don't have that kind of money, can we, maybe, find an arrangement?"</p><p>The bartender watched him struggle with Cross' weight, something like excitement in his amber colored eyes. </p><p>"You're pretty," he almost purred. "I'm sure I can think of something." </p><p>Allen's eyes widened. </p><p>"I'm not sleeping with you," he deadpanned. </p><p>The guy had the balls to make a disappointed face. </p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>"<em>Definitely</em>."</p><p>"Shame," he caressed his chin absent mindedly. "In that case, come back here on Tuesday, around 6 PM. Ask for Tyki Mikk."</p><p>"Fine."</p><p>With that settled, Allen dragged Cross' dead weight over the threshold and basically threw him inside the cab.</p><hr/><p>If anything, Allen should've been rewarded for putting up with Cross' shenanigans. He deserved to be fucking canonized. Destiny, or fate, or whatever the hell it was, apparently had a a diverging opinion. The last thing Allen needed as he pushed his alcoholic guardian up the staircase was for a neighbor to see them. The last of the last things Allen needed right now, was for that neighbor to be the one he had a massive - and still growing - crush on. </p><p>"K-Kanda?"</p><p>It couldn't have been later than 3 AM, yet the dark-haired male was undoubtedly on his way out. </p><p>"Beansprout?"</p><p>Allen could see the exact moment Kanda took all the scene in. Watched as surprise morphed into comtemptuous indifference on his face. Allen wanted to scream, to throw Cross down the stairs - yeah, let him break his neck and stop making his life miserable - wanted to explain why and how, wanted to wipe that expression off Kanda's face, like he had somehow unknowingly proved him right. He felt a deep blush warming its way up his neck and blossoming on his cheeks, a color that probably would've rivaled the most vivid peonies. </p><p>"What are you doing here?" He blurted out and immediately cursed himself, poor choice of words. Kanda sure didn't seem impressed. He glanced at Cross' barely conscious person and raised an eyebrow. </p><p>"Early shift."</p><p>The best thing Cross Marian could've done at that moment was to stay silent, he chose not to, because he had to make this worse. The middle-aged man looked Kanda up and down. </p><p>"You are way out of my stupid ward's league," he mumbled, going for a seductive grin. </p><p>Allen was positively mortified. </p><p>Kanda must've been too, if the silence that stretched awkwardly between the three of them was of any indication. He eventually looked back at Allen. </p><p>"You're blocking the way."</p><p>"Oh, right. Sorry."</p><p>Kanda's shoulder bumped against his. </p><p>For a few seconds, Allen was convinced the long-haired male was going to turn around and say something. He didn't. His confident steps echoed in the staircase and down in the hallway. The sound of the front door closing was impossibly loud. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>10. Hydrangea (<em>hydrangea macrophylla</em>) - Perseverance</strong>
</p><p>He'd been doing fine. Great, in fact. He had pestered Kanda so much the guy had begun to open up to him, <em>he </em>had started to open up to Kanda, which was even more of a surprise. He had enjoyed waking up early in the morning, getting ready, going to work, coming back. Had waited for their weekly meetings with embarrassing excitement. </p><p>And he hadn't visited Mana's grave in over a month. </p><p>He hadn't forgotten. How could he? His life was shaped around Mana's absence, around the emptiness he had left behind when he died. Not a day had passed without Allen thinking about Mana. He just hadn't felt the compelling urge to go visit him. </p><p>But now, Saturday sounded so, so far away, and Allen felt so damn lonely all of a sudden, despite Cross snoring most of daytime away on his couch, despite the plants he had to take care of, despite the book he had enjoyed curling around so much far into the night. </p><p>"Allen, everything all right?"</p><p>"Lenalee, hey," he stood up from his crouching position, taking a sharp intake of his almost finished cigarette. "Yeah, just enjoying a smoke."</p><p>His coworker frowned. </p><p>"No, I mean, in general. Outside of work. Are you all right?"</p><p>"Sure, I'm good."</p><p>He could tell she did not like the way he brushed off her worry. </p><p>"You seem tired lately," she insisted. </p><p>How could he not? He'd been waking up at 7 AM, coming to work at 8, leaving at 5 PM and running to Noah's Ark where Tyki Mikk had him working from 6 PM to 2 AM to pay off his guardian's debt. Allen was exhausted, but if he so much as stopped, he knew he'd fall apart. He couldn't afford that, not now, not for the next couple of weeks. </p><p>"It's been a long week," he offered, white smoke floating out of his mouth. </p><p>"Well, if you need anything, we're more than willing to help." Lenalee stared him in the eye earnestly. "All you have to do is reach out, Allen."</p><p>"Thanks, Lenalee, but I've got this covered."</p><p>She nodded, lips tight, and didn't talk to him again for the rest of their shift. </p><hr/><p>On his bus ride back home, the sound of the engine lulling him to sleep, Allen allowed himself a moment of weakness, and wondered for a few seconds if it would really be that bad to let Tyki Mikk in his pants to get this over with.</p><p>The word 'prostitution' shone in big bright red letters before his eyes making him shudder. </p><p>That was a low he wasn't yet ready to get himself sucked in. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you to anyone leaving kudos and/or comments, I'm such a sucker for those!</p>
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